


Don't Take The Money

by incorrectbatfam



Category: DCU (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Confessions, Established Relationship, First Meetings, Flashbacks, M/M, Modern Royalty, Non-Linear Narrative, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24097318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam
Summary: The clock radio beeped, blaring the morning news.“As everyone knows, today is an important day for our country. The first royal wedding in thirty years, Prince Jaime is slated to marry Princess Traci in a–”Bart slammed the off button a little too harshly.
Relationships: Bart Allen & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Bart Allen & Wally West, Bart Allen/Jaime Reyes, Jaime Reyes & Cassie Sandsmark, Tim Drake & Jaime Reyes, Tim Drake/Cassie Sandsmark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	Don't Take The Money

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @bisexualoftheblade for the beta
> 
> And the song the title and story are (vaguely) based on is Don't Take The Money by Bleachers

“Today is the big day,  _ hijo _ . Are you excited?”

“That’s one way to put it, Mama.”

“To think, in a few hours  _ mi principito _ is going to be happily married to Princess Traci.”

Jaime swallowed the lump in his throat as he adjusted the suffocating shirt collar for the umpteenth time. To his right, his mother, Queen Bianca, fussed over every last detail of his suit. His father, King Alberto, watched from the other side of the room with his younger sister, the Princess Milagro who was loved by the public but a pain in Jaime’s neck. 

“How long is this going to take?” Milagro asked. “I wanna get to the cake and dance already. I heard the prince of Bialya is gonna be there too. I wanna meet him.”

“The ceremony is not for another seven hours, Milagro. You know that,” Alberto gently reminded her. “It’s not always about you. Today is your brother’s big day, and possibly the most important day in our nation’s history.”

“That’s right,” Bianca said. “This has to go well to cement the alliance and bring greater prosperity to both of our countries.”

“No pressure, Jaime,” the princess said to him jokingly. 

Jaime chuckled nervously. 

“Don’t overthink it, son,” Alberto said. “I was nervous at first when I married your mother. I still am sometimes.”

Bianca playfully whacked him with her scarf.

“We have a busy schedule today,” she said. “Lots of preparations. Alberto, why don’t you go check on the kitchen staff, see how they’re coming with the reception dinner.”

His father did as told while his mother rattled on the list of things that needed to be done. Jaime spaced out halfway through, mind wandering to if he could love Princess Traci the way his parents loved each other even though it was an arranged marriage.

Who was he kidding?

–

Jaime checked his watch before opening his bedroom window. The guards were between shifts. That left exactly four and a half minutes for him to make it.

He craned his neck out the window. Lo and behold, he spotted a mop of orange hair among the gardenias below. 

Their arms were just long enough to meet in the middle, Jaime anchored himself to the windowsill with one hand. He pulled the ginger-haired young man inside just as the night shift guard returned. Jaime closed the window, giving them the privacy they so desperately needed.

He threw his arms around the other man. “Bart, amor, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course I’d come. What kind of boyfriend would I be otherwise?” Bart replied.

“I don’t wanna get married tomorrow. Not when I can’t have the person I love,” the prince whimpered. 

Bart rested his head in the crook of Jaime’s neck. He squeezed tight, and Jaime buried his face in Bart’s balloon-like mop of hair. Bart smelled sweet, like strawberries and sugar. Jaime tried his best not to get choked up, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to smell either of those things without thinking of Bart.

“I don’t want you to get married either,” Bart said. “Arranged marriages are so moded.”

Jaime chuckled wetly at his lover’s lingo—one that only existed on a specific street of the city they lived in. He loved it, along with every one of Bart’s other quirks. Pillow soft lips pressed against Jaime’s. He drank it in.

Bart pulled away. “Run away with me,” he said.

Jaime stared back, stunned.

“W-what?”

“Run away with me,” Bart repeated. “I’m serious. We can get out of here tonight, next time the guards switch shifts. We’ll take what we can carry and run. My friend has family in the countryside who’ll take us in and I’m no royal, but I have enough saved up to support the both of us even if you can’t take anything of value. And since I’m a freelancer, I can work from anywhere and you won’t have to worry about a single thing.”

Jaime closed his eyes. He wanted to take Bart’s offer so badly. More than anything in his entire life, second only to Bart himself.

“I can’t,” Jaime said. “Everyone’s relying on me and Traci working out and–”

A choked sob escaped his lips. He felt slender but strong arms around him.

“I don’t wanna do it,” he cried. “I don’t wanna. I don’t love her. I love you.”

“I know,” Bart said, “that’s why I want to run away with you. You know, like Harry and Meghan. We can find our happy ever after.”

“My family needs me too,” Jaime said. “I can’t pick up and leave.  _ Dios _ , Bart, I’m heir to the throne. I can’t– it’s just easier for everyone.”

“Your sister can always take the crown. There is another way.”

He observed Bart. There wasn’t a single twitch, a single sign of hesitation. It was clear he thought it out more than Jaime. It was a strange sight, because Jaime was always the planner while Bart tended to act on a whim.

Not that running from the royal family wasn’t reckless.

“Just...stay,” Jaime begged. 

“Like I was ever gonna leave.”

Their lips collided in an elegant dance. Jaime’s hands traveled down from Bart’s waist until he grasped his thighs. Nimble fingers slipped under Jaime’s waistband. Jaime pulled Bart closer as his lips traveled down the younger man’s neck, nipping at all the tiny freckles, relishing the groan Bart let slip. They walked backward, falling onto silken sheets in a tangle of limbs. 

“One more for the road, then?” Bart asked. 

Jaime didn’t need words to show how much he agreed.

–

Bart awoke in his own bed because staying at the palace overnight was too risky. The blanket over him was thin and fraying, but the room was so warm that it felt like being wrapped in aluminum foil and placed under the sun.

Memories from last night flooded back. 

Jaime was getting married.

_ Prince _ Jaime was scheduled to have a  _ royal _ ceremony and be wedded to  _ Princess _ Traci.

Why did Bart think he ever stood a chance?

He peeled himself from the sweat-sticky sheets, wondering how in heavens it could be so hot and humid in early June. 

He still had over an hour before work.

That was an hour to find decent summer clothes, have breakfast with his family, and try not to pay attention to any news or social media.

The clock radio beeped, blaring the morning news.

**“As everyone knows, today is an important day for our country. The first royal wedding in thirty years, Prince Jaime is slated to marry Princess Traci in a–”**

Bart slammed the off button a little too harshly. He didn’t need some overly peppy broadcaster making the most painful day of his life even worse.

He dug through his dresser for anything to combat the sweltering heat. Bart cursed under his breath when he couldn’t find anything cooler than a t-shirt and jeans. On top of that, when he tried to pull his hair back, his last elastic snapped.

Bart dug a pair of shears from within his messy desk drawer. In four clean cuts, he took the sleeves and pant legs off his outfit. As for the hair, letting it hang loose would only lead to a tangled, sweaty mess throughout the day, so he snipped that too. 

Whatever, he thought. Ninety percent of his impulse control was getting married today anyway. Plus, it looked pretty good for something improvised before he even brushed his teeth. And it was far more freeing than he expected by the time he finished getting ready.

Breakfast wasn’t easy either. Bart anticipated as much. The royal wedding was everything people talked about, and the Garricks were no exception. Of course, nobody outside a couple of close friends knew about his escapades with the royal son, so it wasn’t like Bart could openly express the bitter feelings.

“Oh, isn’t it exciting?” he heard Joan say from the kitchen. “After so long, the prince is finding someone. It’s the kind of love straight out of a movie.”

_ “He already had someone,” _ Bart thought, doing his best to mask the scowl on his face.

“Joan, remember back when King Alberto got married?” Jay asked. “You spent a week after that complaining about how I’m never as romantic as he was.”

“Jay, darling,” Joan said, “I love you, but your idea of dinner theater is mac and cheese in front of the TV.”

“That’s fair.”

Bart scooted past the elderly couple and popped some bread in the toaster.

“Bart,” Joan said “you’re over twenty-seven and I’ve never seen you bring home a girlfriend. Don’t you think you should start looking?”

Bart shrugged. “Never crossed my mind.”

Jay looked at Bart. “You did something with your hair,” he stated.

“Yep,” the young man said, popping the ‘p’. “Thought a little change would be nice.”

–

The two strolled through the park, hand in hand. Fluffy snowflakes fluttered from the sky, landing in little flower-like clumps in both their hairs. They stood out more against Jaime’s dark locks, like an ice prince’s crown. Bart wanted to touch it, if only it didn’t cause the delicate laurel to melt and Jaime’s hair to get messed up. 

At the end of the cobblestone path was a public ice rink. A few children chased each other in circles on skates while parents watched from the sidelines.

Jaime pointed. “Can we?”

“Sure,” Bart said, “why not.”

He reached for his wallet to pay for the rental skates but Jaime stopped him.

“Let me,” the older man said. “You need to save up for your cousin’s birthday gift, right?”

“I’ll have you know that not all artists are struggling,” Bart replied, “but if you insist.”

Ten seconds in, it was apparent that Jaime had never been ice skating in his entire life. Bart, the seasoned semi-professional, guided him slowly, staying close to the knee wall that Jaime clung tightly to.

“You gotta let go, babe,” Bart said. “Otherwise you won’t get anywhere.”

Jaime squeaked, “I-I think I’m good here.”

“I can show you how it’s done.”

“Nope. You go ahead.  _ Estoy bien _ .”

Bart held out a lilac-gloved hand. “Do you trust me?”

Jaime visibly calmed. “Yeah.”

He took Bart’s hand. They skated along the edge. Jaime wobbled, and Bart periodically reminded him to keep looking forward. 

“That’s it, slow and steady,” the redhead said. “You’re doing great!”

Jaime relaxed a little. “Yeah, I guess I am. Y’know, once you get used to it it’s pretty easy–”

He stumbled forward. The two collided, falling onto the hard ice together. Their faces were only inches apart, and Bart didn’t hesitate to close the gap—they’d been dating for six months, he had full rights.

“You’re crash,” Bart murmured. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air like his breath, and for a moment he was scared that Jaime would react negatively.

Those fears were shot down when his boyfriend pulled him in for another sweet kiss.

“ _ También te amo _ ,” Jaime said with a smile. “I love you too.”

– 

The duke and duchess—Tim and Cassie—were Jaime’s only friends. It made sense—a royal wasn’t supposed to be out and running with common folk (not that he followed that rule). They were good friends and close confidantes. Jaime trusted them. After all, they were the only two people who knew his biggest secret. 

The wedding was in exactly six hours, and Jaime needed to clear his head. He texted his friends to meet him in the gardens. Jaime paced in circles underneath the flowering acacia tree. The idea of marrying someone he never met refused to sit with him. 

“Jaime!” Cassie called, jogging over to him, disregarding the way her dress brushed against the wet grass. Tim followed behind, a little more careful about his expensive clothes. 

“What’s up?” the latter asked.

Jaime ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t get married,” he blurted out.

She pulled him into a hug. 

“Oh, sweetie,” she said, rubbing circles on his back.   
“I love Bart,” he cried. “I don’t wanna marry someone that’s not him.”

Tim sighed sadly, placing a hand on the prince’s shoulder.

“There, there,” Cassie said.

“I can’t even imagine,” Tim muttered. “At least Cassie’s another royal, so when we got married in her country…”

The woman shot her partner a glare.

“Right, not good with emotions. You got this, right honey?”

Cassie focused back on Jaime, who, for a dressed-up prince, looked slightly worse for wear.

“He said he wanted to run away with me,” Jaime croaked. 

“Alright, and what do you want?” she asked.

“I wanna do it,” he answered. “Ditch everything and start a life with him, far away from the stupid crown and politics and money matters. But I can’t.”

“Did you guys...break up?”

Jaime sighed. “I...I’m not sure? We did some stuff, then he went home.”

“If we’re looking at this objectively,” Tim said unhelpfully, “the economic benefits for the entire country outweighs the emotional cost of two individuals.”

“Timothy Jackson Drake, you go stand inside the Shame Fountain until you learn to say the right thing,” Cassie scolded.

The man grumbled as he walked over to the friends’ designated “Shame Fountain”, a rusty old fountain with pipes that stopped working eons ago.

“Ignore Lord Robot,” the duchess said, “his father never taught him how to have feelings.”

“So...what should I do?” Jaime asked.

“You follow your heart.”

Jaime snorted. “That sounds like something out of a Disney movie.”

“Hey,” Cassie said, “even the wildest fantasies are rooted in reality.”

– 

“ _ Mi amor _ , there’s something I need to tell you.”

The redhead tore his gaze from stars in the sky to look at his boyfriend of the past year and a half. Even after so long, those swirling emerald eyes managed to pull Jaime in. But not in a scary way, like a whirlpool. It was more like the call of home, after returning from a journey.

“Something up?” he asked.

Jaime fidgeted with the corner of the picnic blanket, heart beating nervously. “There is...something about me you should know.”

Bart leaned forward, placing a hand on Jaime’s face. “Whatever it is, I can already promise that I’ll love you like I always have.”

The older man took a shaky breath. “I’m the prince.”

Bart laughed. “Nice joke there, babe.”

“I’m serious,” Jaime said. “I’m the prince, and I’m sorry for keeping it from you all this time. I get if that makes things different and stuff.”

The younger man’s expression softened. “Oh, Jaime, that doesn’t change a single thing. It’s super crash, actually.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah!” Bart exclaimed. “I have my own knight in shining armor, just like in a fairy tale.”

Laughter bubbled from inside Jaime. “Indeed you do,  _ mi príncipe _ .”

–

The art studio was far enough away from the bustling city for Bart to take comfort in that he wouldn’t have to see the godawful royal wedding displayed all over the place. The building was large and made up of typical brick and mortar in the industrial outskirts of town. Three-fourths of it served as a warehouse for another business. Bart and his colleagues worked out of the remaining quarter, a single-room top level rented out as a studio for their artist co-op. Large windows overlooked the docks, where foghorns bellowed and tankers brushed by regularly. The floor was kept simple, consisting of metal stools and paint-stained worktables with tools lying about every which way. Bart and his cousin, Wally, started the collective after getting tired of the corporate drivel from the graphic design company they worked at previously. Bart’s high school friend and aspiring digital artist, Kon, joined soon after. And before they knew it, business was booming with people who wanted their one-of-a-kind products.

Bart was always the last one to work, largely because he had to take two trains and because he was nice enough to always pick up coffee for the rest. He placed the cardboard tray next to Wally, who was busy scraping out old paint cans.

“Hey guys, what do we got today?” Bart asked. 

Wally paused his cleaning to check a nearby clipboard. “The historical society is creating a new exhibit to get students more involved,” he said. “They sent us a copy of a map, and they want us to recreate it on a large, three-dimensional scale for interacting.”

“Crash,” Bart said, rolling his eyes. “I take it that's what Kon’s doing with the plaster?”

“Uh…” Wally craned his head to look at a dark-haired young man who was elbow-deep in a five-gallon bucket.

“Ignore me,” Kon said. “Say, Bart, did you do something with your hair?”

“Yeah, did it this morning. Felt like trying something different.” Bart went to roll up his sleeves before remembering that he cut them off.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you-know-who by any chance, does it?” Wally asked, smirking.

“No, it doesn’t have anything to do with Voldemort,” Bart replied jokingly. “Wall-man, once you’re done there can you check on the decorative tiles for that hotel company? They called about it yesterday.”

“Sure thing.” Wally ruffled Bart’s hair as he passed.

–

“Kon, hurry up or we’re gonna miss the drag show!” whined a twenty-four-year-old Bart. “I promised Eduardo I’d take pictures since he’s in Argentina with his dad.”

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea to stop for the messiest food in the world,” Kon said, frantically licking the dripping sides of a brightly colored ice cream cone.

“Ice cream’s not the messiest food, you just suck,” Bart said, turning around to walk backward as he talked to his friend, navigating through the bustling Pride festival, knowing it fairly well because it was his sixth time attending.

Kon looked up from his ice cream just in time to see Bart about to run into someone. But before a warning could be uttered, the redhead collided into a dark-skinned guy, falling to the ground together.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Bart exclaimed, quickly pulling himself up and offering a hand to the other man. “I should’ve been watching where I was going. Are you okay?”

“ _ Lo siento _ ,” the other man said at the same time, taking the blue and pink shutter glasses off his face. “I can’t see that well out of these.”

He halted, breath hitching as his green eyes met dark amber ones. His gaze moved down a chiseled jaw and broad shoulders and model-like body. Bart was willing to forgive the guy’s tacky fashion choices of a gray sweatshirt, cargo shorts, and socks with sandals. The stranger took his hand and Bart helped him up.

“Are you okay?” Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome asked.

“Y-yeah,” he said dumbfoundedly. “I’m crash.”

The man looked at him strangely. “Crash?”

Bart’s cheeks heated up. “I-it’s a thing people say on this side of town. It means ‘good’ or ‘great’.”

The giggle that followed sounded like an angel song to Bart as he kept staring at the man.

“That’s interesting,” the man said. “I’ve never been on this side. My parents, uh, never let me. You seem to know it well, though. The festival and everything.”

Bart smoothed out his rainbow cape. “Yeah, I come every year. I take it’s your first?”

“You can say that,” the man said. 

A phone buzzing interrupted them. 

“Sorry, I should probably take this,” the mystery man said. “But, uh, before I go, can I at least get your number? Maybe we can grab lunch or something. It’s the least I can do for being such a klutz.”

Bart nodded mutely as he inputted his number into the man’s phone.

“M-my name’s Bart, by the way,” he said. “Bart Allen. And you are…?”

“Jaime Reyes,” the man—Jaime—said. “I’ll call you, then?”

A grin broke out on Bart’s face. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Crash,” Jaime said. “Did I say that right?”

“Yeah, you’re crash. I-I mean, it’s crash. Er...yeah. I’ll see you around, Jaime?”

“I’ll see you around.” With one last wink, Jaime disappeared into the crowd with Bart’s number now on his phone.

He lingered, staring at the retreating figure. It wasn’t until Kon snapped his fingers in front of Bart’s face did he come back to reality.

“Hey,” Kon said. “Earth to Allen.”

“Sorry,” Bart said. “What were you saying?”

“The drag show? We're gonna go or are you just gonna stare off into space?”

“Uh…”

“Oh my God,” Kon said, grabbing Bart’s elbow. “Bart, you useless gay, I swear…”

–

“Bart, you’ve been off all day,” Kon said as they assembled the 3D plaster model. “We know it’s about...you know. If you need to talk about it…”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Bart said icily, because the cold was safer than the hurt.

“Dude,” Wally interjected, “you didn’t even take our free lunch offer and you haven’t made any pointless conversation. It’s not like you.”

Bart slumped back in his chair, setting down the blue paintbrush. He checked the clock. In less than forty-five minutes, Jaime would be betrothed to the princess of a country he couldn’t even be arsed to remember. 

“Yeah, well, you try falling in love with someone and watching them get married to a total rando,” he said. “Then come talk to me.”

Wally sighed, placing a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “It sucks when you wanna be with someone and the world has other plans. I totally feel you, dude.”

“How?” Bart snapped irately. “Artemis’s dad took, what, an extra hour to fall for the Wally West charm? And then she went on a business trip for two weeks? Tell me, how the hell is that the same as my situation?”

“I was just trying to help,” the older one muttered, removing his hand. 

“Maybe I don’t need your help.”

“Hey now.” Kon stepped between them, wiping his plaster-covered hands with a rag. “Wally’s just trying to make you feel better. He didn’t mean to discredit you.”

Bart exploded. Wally removed the sharp chisels from his reach. 

“Jaime told me himself he doesn’t wanna marry this girl!” he yelled. “They don’t care how he feels. It’s all a game to them and he deserves better! He deserves to choose, whether that’s me or someone else. He deserves to be with somebody who makes him happy, not someone who promises a stack of money and nothing else. It’s so fucking moded!” 

Hot tears pricked his eyes. His chest felt heavy, like something putting pressure from the inside and expanding outwards. He hiccuped. Bart barely registered Kon and Wally’s arms wrapped around him from both sides.

“We know you’re hurting,” Wally said, “and I promise we’ll be here for you through everything, no matter what the outcome of today is.”

Kon nodded in agreement. “Wally’s right. We’re here for you. Normally, I’d tell you to do something romantic and cheesy like follow your heart but–”

“That’s it!” he sprang up, nearly knocking over the stool and his friends, and sprinted towards the door.

“What? Bart, where are you going?!?” his cousin called. 

“I’m following my heart!”

– 

Yet another reporter shoved a microphone in Jaime's face. The white flashes were blinding and swathes of paparazzi and curious civilians at the gates blocked what would’ve been an otherwise beautiful pink sunset over the city. Someone asked him another question about Traci, or some political thing or another. Jaime lost track. He repeated the same generic, scripted answers for the umpteenth time in a row. Celebrities milled around, along with his family and friends and other dignitaries. Jaime recognized Tim’s father and other wealthy friends, all busy dazzling the cameras. Phones buzzed around as the clamoring only grew more deafening. Somewhere, on a random citizen’s phone, he saw #RoyalWedding trending at number one. There weren’t any photos of him and Traci together though, because of that old myth about it being bad luck to see a bride before the ceremony. Funny, Jaime thought, the entire arrangement was nothing but the worst luck on Earth.

– 

The wind rushed through his hair as Bart ran like his life depended on it, because in a sense it did. 

He raced past street vendors and dodged pedestrians without stopping to apologize.

His seconds were precious. Each one that ticked by signified the window of opportunity closing.

He didn’t even bother swiping his metro card at the subway, instead jumping over the turnstiles and narrowly avoiding an angry cop.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he slipped through the train’s closing doors.

Bart crossed his fingers.

He was going to make it, he told himself.

Mainly because he didn’t know what he was going to do if he didn’t.

_ He had to make it. _

– 

Alberto stepped up to the podium.

“Friends, family, citizens. Today we are gathered to celebrate the union of my son, Prince Jaime, to the beautiful Princess Traci. This is a hallmark day, because not only are two people being joined for life, but a new alliance is being forged after years of strife. I want to personally let Princess Traci and her family know that it is an honor to be joined in such a holy manner. Facilitating this union is the venerable Father Jason Todd.”

The king stepped aside to make way for a robed priest with dark hair and a white streak. Jaime gulped, glancing down the aisle to where the princess and her father awaited. The front rows were lined with nobility, and non-royal celebrities filled the rest of the seats. Bianca and Milagro were in the first row, and the latter rolled her eyes, clearly bored out of her mind. Family-appointed groomsmen and bridesmaids—including Tim and Cassie—stood off to the side. Next to Tim was his younger brother, who was the only one small enough to be the cute ring bearer that the public no doubt wanted. The little boy held a velvet pillow with two matching, ornate gold and diamond bands. Around them, yellow poppies and fragrant orange blossoms decorated the outdoor venue. Jaime kept his hands clasped in front of him, suppressing any urge to say or do something that would sabotage the ceremony. 

The orchestra began.

–

Bart wanted to scream as the subway stopped at all its routine stations. 

Dark tunnels littered with illegible graffiti whizzed by between, but not fast enough for the man’s liking.

Then, in the middle of the tracks, metal scraped against metal in an awful screeching noise, and the last thing Bart wanted to hear followed.

**“We’re sorry, but we’re currently experiencing indefinite delays due to train malfunctions. Please be patient and we’ll get moving as soon as possible.”**

No. 

_ No no no no no. _

This couldn’t be happening. Not to him. Not now.

Bart shoved past the crowd and kicked open the door connecting to the other cars. 

He spotted a nearby maintenance ladder.

He hopped onto the first rung.

– 

The priest—Jacob or whatever, Jaime couldn’t be bothered to remember the name—started with a few passages from the Bible about love and unions and the sanctity of marriage or whatever. Jaime held himself back from rolling his eyes because that damn book stood against everything that made him happy in the last three and a half years. He kept his eyes on Traci, as everyone expected to, but in actuality focused on a bouquet of orange blossoms behind her.

The two were prompted to read their vows.

Jaime pulled a folded-up sheet of paper that had his father’s old vows printed on it. The princess went first, and as sweet as it probably sounded the prince spaced out from the beginning. His hands grew sweatier by second and a lump formed in his throat. 

He avoided Traci’s eyes as he unfolded the paper and read it, word-for-word like he was supposed to.

–

The crowd in front of the palace was huge, but Bart knew a shortcut. 

He ducked behind the gardenia bushes, back to where Jaime used to sneak him inside at night. 

It was risky. Not only were the royal security not between shifts, but extra men were posted outside the ceremony.

Bart didn’t give a damn.

With a running start, he jumped and climbed over the metal gates.

There was a yell, followed by a series of gunshots.

He didn’t stop as the guards chased him in hot pursuit.

– 

“Princess Traci, do you take Prince Jaime to be your lawfully wedded husband,  to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

“And Prince Jaime, do you take Princess Traci to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Jaime gulped. He looked out into the crowd, at his bored sister and proud father and mother crying silent tears of joy. He didn’t know why, but there was a sliver of hope that Bart would come riding in like a knight in shining armor and rescue Jaime like in the movies. 

As obligated, he answered, “I do.”

“If there is anyone who objects to this wedding, speak now for forever hold your–”

“STOP!”

Shocked gasps rang throughout the crowd as heads turned to the source. Jaime’s eyes widened as Bart shot down the aisle.

The younger man was stopped halfway by guards shouting, “On your knees, hands above your head!”

With at least four guns pointed at him, Bart had no choice to comply. He dropped to his knees, placing his hands behind his head.

“What is the meaning of this?” Alberto demanded furiously. “Get this trespasser out of here right this instant!”

Jaime let go of Traci’s hands and rushed to his lover, clumsily bumping into the indignant ring bearer in the process.

“Release him,” he commanded the guards.

The men hesitated but backed off. He took the artist’s face in his hands, like he couldn’t believe Bart was really there. Jaime ran his fingers through the ginger hair, shorter but still as silky. He didn’t recall Bart ever owning a tank top or shorts but that hardly mattered. There was a dot of blue paint on the tip of his nose and his fingernails were still stained with acrylics and his face was red from running and Jaime had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

“Prince Jaime,” Bart said, “I can’t let you do this. You said it to me yourself last night, you don’t want to marry Princess Traci. You told me countless times that you don't wanna get married. I love you, and I can’t stand by and watch you throw away your happiness. Please, darling, I’m begging you to rethink this.”

“Your majesty, you know this man?” the priest asked.

“I love him,” Jaime answered, not taking his eyes off Bart for even a second. “I always have and I’ll never stop, not even if I’m forced to spend the rest of my life with someone else.”

“Son,” Alberto said, “The throne, the country–”

“Can stuff it,” Jaime retaliated. “I’ve made my decision and I’m sticking by it.”

He helped Bart to his feet.

Bianca exclaimed, “You can’t do that! You’re the prince and you’re going to be king one day. Think about the future!”

“I’ve thought about it,” Jaime said. “A future without  _ mi amor  _ is not a future worth living. If I have to choose between being a prince and being with him then…” 

He took off his crown and tossed it aside.

“The decision couldn’t be easier.”

Jaime took Bart’s hand and ran like hell, past the crowds and cameras, past the festival grounds, and into the empty park. They ran, fast enough to lose the guards chasing on foot, taking shortcuts and hidden passes only civilians like Bart knew about, but not officials. As soon as the coast was clear, they stopped to catch their breaths.

“That. Was. Crash! That was the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life!”

“Same,  _ cariño _ . I didn’t think I had the guts,” Jaime said between huffs. “Thank you for stopping me. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if I went through with it.”

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Bart asked.

“Mostly,” replied the prince. “There’s just one little thing.”

Bart stopped. 

Jaime continued. “You said that I told you I don’t want to get married. That’s false. I don’t want to get married to someone unless I truly love them.”

Jaime pulled the wedding band off his finger and dropped to one knee.

“Bart Allen, I love you. God, I love you more than you can ever imagine and I don’t think I can ever say it enough. You don’t love my title or riches. You love me, and that’s worth more than anything else in the entire world. I’d give up everything I have just to spend the rest of my life with you. I may be an ex-royal, but you’ll always be my prince. Your hand forever’s all I want. Please say you’ll make me the happiest man alive and marry me.”

“Yes!” Bart exclaimed, tears flowing freely down his face. “Yes yes yes! Oh, God, I love you so much Jaime!”

He practically pounced on Jaime. Their lips connected with passion, with a fire that Jaime thought only existed in stories. He paused to slip the ring on Bart’s finger and planted a soft kiss on the younger man’s knuckles.

“So I guess we’re living happily ever after then?” Bart asked.

Jaime chuckled. “I think this is better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I'm pretty sure this is the peak of my writing


End file.
